


Sign of the Only Angel

by Mickey_D



Series: Bucky's Beans [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anal Sex, Barista Tony Stark, Coffee Shops, Explicit Sexual Content, Farmer's Market, Harry Styles in a school uniform, Harry in Panties, Lace Panties, M/M, Minor Character Death, Reunions, School Uniforms, Sex, Slightly inspired by Harry's first album, There's definitely lube this time :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickey_D/pseuds/Mickey_D
Summary: The one where Louis is woefully unprepared for Harry Styles, Thirst Trap (TM).
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Bucky's Beans [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736302
Kudos: 28





	Sign of the Only Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple of disclaimers:
> 
> 1\. I love farmer's markets. My goal is to become a regular at my local one once my life is not consumed by school and work.
> 
> 2\. Most works in this series work well as a stand alone. This can be read as a stand alone, but to get more of the coffee shop flavor, read the first part.
> 
> 3\. There are two minor parental deaths. They are just touched on briefly in Louis' flashback (Italicized) and one or two sentences during their reunion. 
> 
> This is again dedicated to Wifey, who has written her own addition to this universe! It's a Daredevil Matt/Foggy story. It's linked to Part 1! You should check it out! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Louis stood in front of his closet, looking at all the clothes anxiously waiting for their turn to go out into the world, and was at a loss. He’d already torn through his dresser. The drawers were still gaping open with shirts and pants hanging over the edges. He just couldn’t find anything that felt appropriate for reuniting with a friend who you last saw after your mother’s funeral five years ago.

“Zayn!” Louis called. “I need your help.”

His roommate grumbled as he got off the couch. Louis was no doubt interrupting a conversation with a classmate he’d taken a shine to this semester. Louis didn’t really care. His predicament was far more important. 

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know what to wear.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow at that. 

“What?” Louis demanded.

“I can’t decide which is more shocking: you needing my help or you not knowing what to wear.”

Louis scowled at Zayn. “You can just go back to your little friend if you’re going to be rude.”

Zayn raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll help. I’ll help. What vibe are you going for?”

“Something like _‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been such an ass.’_ ”

“Apology accepted,” Zayn teased.

Louis crossed his arms. “Zayn.”

“I don’t think you have anything that will say that.”

Louis dropped his arms with a huff. “Fine. I’ll find something on my own. Go away.”

He pushed past Zayn to yank his hangers around hoping something would jump out at him. Zayn let him growl and snap at his clothes for a few more moments before pulling him away by his shoulders. “Sit on your bed. I’ll find something.” Louis flopped on his bed, landing on his back with a despairing groan. Zayn was singing something in Urdu as he went through Louis’ wardrobe far more calmly than Louis had. “Are you trying to seduce this kid?”

Louis smiled up at the ceiling. “It would be nice to.”

Zayn nodded to himself, pulling out the red and black flannel Louis had been favoring lately and then turned to the ravaged dresser. He pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans with one of the knees ripped up. He had to rummage for the Rolling Stones tank he had stuck in his mind. He tossed everything rather unceremoniously on Louis’ mostly naked form. “There. And wear the shoes without the holes.” He started to make his way back to the living room. “Let me know if you need help with your hair,” he tossed over his shoulder just before he left the room.

“Thank you, Zayn.”

Louis got himself dressed, situating his shirt so that it showed off his tattoos and the definition he’d worked hard for in his chest. It took him too long to find shoes that didn’t have a hole in them. He should probably fix that soon, but now was not the time. Maybe when he had a job that paid more than minimum wage. He glanced in the mirror on the back of his closet door to check his hair. It was a mess. A quick glance at the clock told him he was already running late. “Damn,” he muttered. He hurried into the bathroom and put a bit of product through his hair. Hopefully it would dry alright.

“Got everything?” Zayn asked from his sprawl on the couch.

Louis quickly patted his pockets (phone, wallet, keys). “Yes. Alright. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure thing. Good luck. Don’t be nervous.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Louis snagged his skateboard and left the dorm. He was definitely nervous, jittery in a way he usually wasn’t. He couldn’t help but make a big deal out of this little reunion. It had been five years. So much changed. Louis tried to keep his thoughts from racing as he rolled through a relatively empty campus. He’d long since come to accept the regret that accompanied memories of his old friend-just-starting-to-have-benefits Harry. He hadn’t at all exaggerated when he’s said he’d been an ass, but at the time he’d been too prideful to apologize. Not at all shocking if you asked any of his current friends. He hated them all a little bit sometimes.

Once he got off campus, he had to pull himself out of his thoughts. It was Saturday and the farmer’s market was in full swing. People were going vendor to vendor trying to find something “unique” and over-priced. Louis never found any reason to cram himself among a bunch of overweight paper pushers who only got outside for this farmer’s market. Harry would probably really enjoy it, though. He probably went every week, always coming away with some weird cheese or a new soap. 

Louis refused to accept that his irrational distaste for farmer’s markets probably had everything to do with Harry liking them. Utterly ridiculous to even suggest that.

Louis wove around all his fellow pedestrians, checking the streets every now and then. He was only a block away. The nerves that had dissipated as he focused on not hitting anyone redoubled as the sidewalk cleared in front of him. It wasn’t like he had suggested this; Harry had been the one to reach out. Obviously Harry wanted to see him. And Louis definitely wanted to see Harry. He’d missed his best friend more than he ever let on. He never thought they’d be meeting up again after so much time. What if it went as poorly as their last time together had? They could never be friends again, and after letting the hope build in his chest that they’d reunite, Louis wasn’t sure that he could handle actual rejection.

Louis slowed and hopped off his skateboard, tucking it under his arm as he finished up his trip with a walk. It gave him a little time to gather his once again racing thoughts and steel his nerves. It was also good that he wasn’t on his board when he finally saw Harry. 

He was not prepared. At all. Had he been on his board, he’d likely crash into a wall or swerve into on-coming traffic. Bloody and bruised did not go with Zayn’s outfit.

Harry looked like a model as he leaned against the front wall of the shop. He’d cut his hair. The last time Louis saw it, it’d been pulled up in a bun. Now it was short, longer on top than on bottom. A couple of strands curled obscenely over his forehead, kissing the top of the sunglasses he wore. He was dressed in all black--leather boots, tight pants, button down shirt untucked and open over this throat and the top part of his chest. Over that he had on a leopard printed coat that fell to his knees. 

There was a little farmer’s market bag dangling carelessly from one hand; Louis knew it!

Louis didn’t have much more time to ogle the person in front of him before he was noticed. Harry saw him, lifting off the wall and putting his sunglasses on top of his head. Louis thought very seriously about running in the opposite direction.

“Hello, Louis,” Harry greeted. He was quiet, like they were the only two people on the sidewalk. His voice was very deep.

“Hi, Harry,” Louis returned. His voice was far too high pitched and squeaky to be close to on par with how hot Harry suddenly was.

(He’d been hot before, but this was… Louis was pretty sure he was drooling at this point.)

“Shall we?” Harry asked, gesturing to Bucky’s Beans.

“Yeah.”

“Rather unfortunate sign isn’t it?” Harry asked as they went in.

Louis looked up at the shop’s sign. Underneath the name were two accidentally- on- purposefully placed coffee beans. He couldn’t help but smile. “I like it.”

Harry chuckled as he held open the door. Louis refused to swoon. He just wouldn’t. He would blush. Furiously so. “Thank you,” he said barely above a whisper.

Harry replied, equally as quiet, “You’re welcome.”

A girl with a thick book in hand glanced up at them as the door closed with a soft click. She smirked, but said nothing. Harry guided Louis up to the counter with a confident hand on Louis’ back. That was new. Louis couldn’t say he minded.

They took their time getting up to the cashier, looking over the pastry selection and trying to figure out what they wanted from the expansive menu. 

“Do you know what you want?” Harry asked.

Louis turned his attention from the menu to Harry. He blinked a couple of times. That question reminded him of the last time Harry asked him that question...

_Louis’ feet crunched over the gravel as he stomped away from the small congregation of people gathered in the cemetery. Louis stuffed his hands in the pockets of his suit pants as he plodded along. He scowled at the puddles dotting the path. The gray skies above loosed a light drizzle of gray over the entire scene. Louis had been damp since early this morning, and now the damp and the gray seeped into his core, lodging there like a cancer already malignant. Louis ignored the voices behind him, talking softly about nothing that would ever matter. Nothing could ever matter after this; not the quietly offered sympathy, the flowers and cards, the hundreds of casseroles shoved in their freezer. Nothing mattered._

_Louis finally reached the beat up four-door car he’d arrived in. The dull red blared loudly against the huddle of black cars that surrounded it. He yanked open the passenger door and dropped into the seat with a huff. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. There was no way he could possibly have any more tears to shed. His eyes remained dry as he let out a shaky breath, keeping his eyes closed. He crossed his arms over his chest. He had to hold himself together. It was more important now than ever._

_The quiet voices he’d left behind got closer, but he still ignored them. They moved on soon enough, leaving behind more crunching gravel and the latch on the driver’s side door opening. Harry slid behind the wheel with a quiet sigh. Louis turned away from him. Harry would no doubt try to say something that would only make Louis angry. If he didn’t look, maybe Harry wouldn’t say anything._

_Harry remained quiet. He pulled off his tie, shrugged out of his suit coat, and undid the top three buttons of his shirt. He dug the keys out his pocket. They jingled as he considered them. The noise was jarring in the silence and it got Louis’ attention however brief. He glanced at the keys before refocusing outside the window._

_“Louis,” Harry began._

_He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, “Talk more, little love. Open up. It’s good for you.” “Not now, Harry,” Louis muttered._

_Harry looked at Louis slouched in his suit in the passenger seat. He was painfully aware of how Louis was feeling just by looking at him. He knew better at this point. You don’t suffer through middle and high school together and don’t learn something about your best friend. “I was just going to ask if you wanted a burger or something. There’s a McDonald’s down the street.”_

_“That sounds great,” Louis said._

_Harry started the car with a nod. It shook to life, engine wheezing a bit before settling into a begrudgingly steady rumble. They rolled slowly away from the gray and black. Louis still wouldn’t look at Harry. He only answered questions he was directly asked._

_Drive-thru or for here? Drive thru._

_What do you want? Burger. Better make it a kid’s meal._

_Harry ordered their food, paid, and pulled into a parking spot to eat. Louis sat with the red box open on his lap. He stared down at the food in its greasy paper wrappers. His stomach turned. He glanced over at Harry to see his best friend happily eating his Big Mac and fries. His anger blazed._

_“How can you even eat?”_

_Harry paused mid-chew. He looked out the windshield first, then turned a full-cheeked, puzzle-eyed look on Louis. “What?” he asked around a mouthful of food._

_Louis wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How can you eat?” he demanded once more, enunciating each word._

_Harry swallowed before he answered. “Mom wouldn’t want us to starve.”_

_“Don’t call her that,” Louis hissed. “She wasn’t your mom!”_

_Louis knocked his food onto the floor, fries and a poorly made action figure joining the mess already present. He jabbed his thumb on the release button more than once before he managed to get out of his seatbelt. The door was swung open with grunts and choice words. Harry tossed his burger back in the bag, getting out himself with quicker success._

_“Louis, where are you going?” he asked as Louis began to bluster across the lot._

_“Home!” Louis shouted._

_“Let me drive you at the very least,” Harry called after Louis._

_“No!”_

_Harry crossed his arms on the hood of his car and rested his head on them. There were few things he could do when Louis was like this. He certainly couldn’t do anything to make Louis feel better just yet. It was going to take time. All he could do now was get back in his car and follow slowly behind Louis to make sure he got home in one piece. So, Harry dropped back behind the wheel, shoved a couple more fries in his mouth, started the car, and followed Louis home with his flashers on…_

“Louis?”

Louis snapped back to the present with a rather smart, “Um…” to say to that.

“Do you know what you want?” Harry repeated.

Louis still didn’t have much to say. It was a massive menu and he’d been a bit distracted.

“Hi, Harry,” the guy behind the counter said cheerfully. He was wearing blue sunglasses inside. “What can I get you two?”

“Hello, Tony. We’re both gonna have my usual and then…” Harry looked back through the pastries, “...a couple of blueberry muffins.”

“That’ll be...eight dollars,” Tony said.

Louis scrambled for his wallet, coming out of his stupor. “Let me,” he said. “Please, Harry. It’s the least I can do.”

Tony smirked at the cash register, like the two of them were sharing some awful inside joke. Louis ignored that and handed over some crumpled bills from his wallet. Tony took it as Harry moved to get their drinks from Tony’s blonde coworker. Louis put the change in the tip jar and got a salute from Tony as he joined Harry and picked up the muffins. 

“You still have a massive sweet tooth right?” Harry asked, the first hint of insecurity Louis picked up on.

“I do,” Louis told him. He’d rather not torture Harry too much today...at least not right off the bat.

They took a seat at one of three tables by the bay window looking out onto the sidewalk. Louis would have stayed for the views alone (both the people outside and Harry across from him), but one sip of his drink had him in love with Bucky’s Beans. He would never go to another coffee shop again. Harry had been right, of course. He still had a massive sweet tooth. And Bucky’s coffee was unbelievable. Louis’ sisters would love this. Zayn would love this. He’d definitely be returning.

They were silent through half of their coffee. Louis was trying to figure out where to start. The beginning, that rainy day in the McDonald’s parking lot, seemed so far away, swathed in misery and regret. The words were slowly coming to him, fighting to get in the right order, and they would have fallen in line had he not suddenly jolted in his seat as a leather booth slid along the bottom of his calf over his jeans. 

A blush flamed up his cheeks as he met Harry’s eyes. The other boy was looking so serene; innocent despite the dirty boot under the table. The toe of the boot moved up so, so slowly, hooked behind Louis’ knee for just a moment, before retreating back to the floor just as slowly.

“How have you been, Louis?” Harry asked.

“I’ve been alright. You?”

“Surprisingly good.”

They lapsed into another silence. Harry was not going to get away with getting Louis flustered. It was payback time. He took the toe of his shoe, started to drag it up Harry’s leg, then brought it back down. He did this several more times, successively going higher and higher, until this foot was boldly in Harry’s lap. Harry’s eyes were wide, cheeks flushed, and breaths short. Louis puffed out his chest with pride. It was nice to know he could still get to Harry as easily as he could in the past. At least that hadn’t changed.

Harry reached below the table and eased Louis’ foot from his lap with an apologetic little smile for Louis’ benefit. He loved the attention--anything was better than the silence they’d endured the last few years--but they really needed to talk. They could get back to where footsie was leading them later.

“I’ve missed you, Lou,” Harry admitted quietly.

Louis was startled by that admission, even though he’d been expecting it and knew it was true for himself as well. The first day they hadn’t spoken to each other had been excruciating, like he was drowning with no hope of reaching the surface in time. He was startled just by how much he was realizing he’d missed Harry. “I’ve missed you too, Harry. I’m… I’m so sorry for everything. This is all my fault.”

Harry took Louis’ hand, holding it securely across the table. Louis just stared at where Harry’s hand covered his. He couldn’t breathe, but it was different than the drowning all those years ago. This was the I’m-so-excited-what-do-I-do-with-myself kind of not breathing. “It’s only mostly your fault,” Harry murmured. “It wasn’t like I was super available either.”

 _Talk more, little love. Open up. It’s good for you._ “Still,” Louis said, “I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. You were only trying to help.”

Harry’s thumb rubbed along Louis’ knuckles. “How are you doing with that?”

“It’s been five years and every morning it still hits me like a fucking truck.” He hadn’t even admitted as much to the therapist Zayn had talked him into going to. Harry was always so easy to talk to, confide in. “How are you doing? With Robin being gone and all?”

“About the same. That was just a year and a half ago.”

Louis nodded. He’d loved Robin almost as much as he’d loved his mother. Now they were both gone and the world was worse off for it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Harry shrugged. “It is what it is. That’s what you always used to say.”

Louis grinned. “I still do. Drives my roommate Zayn up the wall.”

Harry laughed. God, how Louis had missed that sound.

“So, are we good now?” Harry asked once the laughter had ebbed away.

There was probably still a lot to talk about and catch up on, but for now Louis just planted his foot unceremoniously back into Harry’s lap. “Yes. We’re good.”

* * *

Two years later, Harry sat in front of the vanity he’d convinced Louis to go in on when they’d moved into their own apartment. He was primping and preening for when Louis would come home, which was… Harry glanced at the digital clock by the bed… in twenty minutes. He could smell the stew he’d been preparing all day ready in the slow cooker his mom had bought them. His mouth watered. Louis had been so stressed this week--exams, interviews, finalizing graduation plans--and he wanted to make him feel better. Hopefully, Harry’s plans tonight would do just the trick. Harry practiced his dazzling, welcome-home smile once more before hopping off his chair and going to stir the stew.

While Harry got ready at home, Louis was on the bus, squeezed between an old woman who smelled like she’d dumped an entire bottle of Estee Lauder on herself and a hipster with his music turned up too loud. It was some pretty terrible music, if Louis did say so himself. His phone was unfortunately dead after nervously playing Tetris for forty-five minutes while waiting for an interview. The company he was interviewing with had had a staff meeting that went longer than expected. Louis had been forced to wait and wait and wait. The recruiter offered profuse apologies once he’d finally called Louis into his office. Louis assured him that he understood while keeping the bloody bitten nails of his left hand away from the eyes of the recruiter. It turned out to be the best interview he’d had so far. They’d ended up talking about last night’s football game. They’d cheered for the same team; a fact Louis put in the pro column for himself as an applicant.

Now, as the bus finally reached his stop, all Louis wanted to do was get home to Harry. Home to Harry--the thought made him smile as he thanked the driver and got off. He whistled as he walked down the block to his apartment building. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d whistled. His day was suddenly just going so well. How could he not whistle on a day like today?

He called for the elevator once he’d gotten past their car too affectionate neighbor in the mail room. The doors nearly immediately opened with a cheerful ding and rose without stopping to the sixth floor. Louis kept whistling on his jaunt down to apartment nine. He dug his keys out of his pocket and realized he needed to stop whistling since he was whistling the song that hipster was blasting through his headphones. Focusing intently on whistling something else, Louis unlocked the door and got inside. He shrugged out of his coat, hung it next to the door, turned, and froze.

There was tall, beautiful Harry leaning against the wall bathed in light from the kitchen. He was grinning as Louis stared. Harry’s hair was slicked back aside from one scandalous curl resting on his forehead. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and drew attention to the white button down shirt--freshly pressed no doubt--that was buttoned all the way up for once with a thin navy tie under the collar. The shirt stretched across Harry’s folded arms and tucked into green and blue plaid skirt that was far too short to be school appropriate. Louis believed if he blew hard enough he could cause enough of a breeze to lift the skirt and reveal whatever other surprise Harry was hiding underneath that skirt. Tall white socks came up to Harry’s knees and his feet were tucked into a shiny pair of Mary Janes. All of Louis’ blood rushed south as his eyes lingered over everything that was Harry Styles, stopping once they met those smirking green eyes. 

“Welcome home, Mr. Tomlinson. Did you have a good day?”

Louis forced himself to swallow around his dry mouth. “Yes,” he croaked, “and it just got better.”

“I made dinner. Would you like some?”

Harry’s voice was low, gravely, like he’d just sucked Louis through a life-changing orgasm. And that question wasn’t fair. Louis had smelled the stew the moment he’d walked in the door. It smelled heavenly and probably tasted better. But then there was Harry standing there waiting for an answer in a short skirt. Louis wanted to fuck him right now, damn his grumbling stomach and the simmering stew. 

Louis didn’t get a chance to answer before Harry was coming over to him, keeping his eyes on Louis’ face as Louis’ dropped to that skirt. Harry’s hands fell to the waistband of Louis’ pants, fingers dipping just inside as a maddening tease. Those hands, warm and strong, dragged up Louis’ torso and wrapped around the tie Louis was wearing. They used the silk to pull him in for a short, sweet kiss that was probably longer than the skirt Louis found himself fixated on. Then smart fingers tugged loose the knot and drew the tie from around Louis’ neck. Harry let it drop to the floor while he opened the first two buttons on Louis’ shirt. “Why don’t we eat, first,” he whispered. “I’ll need you in peak shape later, and you can’t be in peak shape if you’re hungry.” Harry stepped back with a wicked grin and spoke louder on his way to the kitchen, “Besides, you have to tell me about your day.”

Louis followed Harry into the kitchen, a bit star struck and a bit like a lost puppy. Harry ushered him into a seat, assuring him that all he had to do was sit and relax. Louis appreciated the sitting part. Even though he’d sat for most of the day, it was nice to sit in a comfortable chair in his own home. The relaxing part would be trickier. Louis was hyper-aware of Harry who was getting spoons out of the silverware drawer and reaching for the bowls. The bowls, though, seemed to have moved up a couple of shelves because they were not where they were this morning when Louis had had a bowl of cereal before racing out the door. Harry had one hand braced on the counter as he stretched to reach them. Louis took the moment given to him to appreciate the long lines of Harry’s body and how the skirt moved up as he stretched. 

Dear Lord.

Harry had panties on. 

Lace panties that were red. Not cherry red, though. More like a maroon or a garnet. Harry probably knew the exact color. All Louis knew was that food was quickly becoming the literal last thing on his mind and he’d only ever felt devastation like what he felt when Harry had successfully gotten the bowls down once before in his life. The image, even if it’d only been a glimpse, of dark lace against pale skin was burned into his mind like a brand.

“Would you like a beer?” Harry asked as he set a bowl of stew in front of Louis.

Louis blinked dumbly up at his boyfriend. What the hell was a beer?

“I’ll get you one,” Harry said even though Louis never answered. “You definitely deserve one after the week you’ve had.”

Louis was now certain that Harry had moved things around on purpose just to tease him because he knew for a fact they always kept the beers on the top shelf of the fridge. They were never on the bottom shelf unless there was a surplus from a party or something. Harry moved them to the bottom shelf so he was forced to bend over. The skirt rose as Harry bent over. Louis had never gotten so hard so fast. He had a full view of Harry’s tight ass cupped in red lace. Like with the bowls, this view was over too fast. Harry was back at the table with a beer and a sparkling water. He popped the top off the beer and passed it to Louis.

“Eat, Mr. Tomlinson. You don’t want that food to go cold.”

Louis looked down at the food. How did civilized people eat again? It certainly wasn’t by dropping his head into the bowl in front of him. Harry had placed the spoon next to the bowl, so perhaps that was how it was done. Louis shot Harry a furtive glance, but the boy was just sitting there grinning, probably--no, definitely aware of what he was doing to his Mr. Tomlinson. Louis snagged his beer and took a quick gulp to steady himself. He picked up the spoon and began to eat. 

His brow furrowed as he stared down at his bowl. He chewed slowly. He took another bite. “Harry, is this…”

“Your sister sent me your mom’s recipe. I hope it’s as good as hers.”

Memories of cold winter afternoons spent playing in the snow and football nights with his dad flooded Louis’ mind. His mom singing at the stove as she worked all day on her stew—stirring, tasting. It wasn’t a proper winter without that stew; the past five years without it had strung Louis along through months of bleak gray skies and more rain than snow. 

“It’s perfect, Harry. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied with a smile that morphed from sweet to dirty in a second. “Now, eat up. Peak shape, remember?”

Louis did as he was told, drawn right back into the present situation. Between bites he filled Harry in on how his day went and Harry did the same. Their conversation turned to plans for their graduation party--who was actually coming, what food they should get...or maybe they should make everything--and if they were going to get a cat or not. Louis was still a little hesitant. Harry had three cats already picked out.

Conversation came to a halt, though, when Harry interrupted it with an, “Oops!”

Louis paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, to look across the table at Harry. His boyfriend was dabbing at a spot of stew on his shirt with his napkin. He looked up at Louis with a pout. “Do you mind if I take my shirt off, Mr. Tomlinson? I don’t want to get it any dirtier.”

Louis was back to focusing on his arousal, peak shape be damned. “Sure,” he said. “Take it off.”

Harry lifted his chin a bit so that he could get his tie undone a bit easier. He took his time to carefully fold it and set it on the table. Then came the buttons. Louis had to put his spoon down to watch so that he didn’t spill stew on himself. Harry no doubt dropped his on purpose; Louis didn’t want to drop his on accident. One button...two buttons...three buttons…

Louis let out a wounded noise as Harry’s white shirt began to fall open across his chest. Beneath the white was a lace bralette that matched those panties. Harry’s nipples peaked as the cold air hit them. Louis caught himself panting and his hand groping his erection even though he wasn’t fully aware of when he’d started touching himself. Harry was about to shrug off the shirt when Louis heard himself croak, “No.”

Harry didn’t take his shirt off. He left it hanging open on his shoulders, eyes locked on Louis as the other boy got up from the table, took their bowls to the sink, and turned back to Harry with a gleam in his eye and a hard cock straining to get out. Harry saw Louis grip the counter hard, like he was keeping himself from coming over here and devouring Harry like they’d both wanted all night. Harry had one more trick up his sleeve, one that would hopefully shatter that hard won self-control. He caught Louis’ eyes, parted his mouth just so, and licked his lip.

Harry only had to wait a heartbeat before Louis pounced. They nearly toppled Harry’s chair over. Louis’ hands gripped Harry’s face between them as they snogged like they’d been separated for years not hours. Harry yanked open Louis’ belt, tore at his fly, stuck his hand down his boxers. Louis broke away from the kiss with a groan. Harry’s lips occupied themselves with the jaw and throat they could easily reach with Louis above them like this. Louis’ hands occupied themselves with feeling along Harry’s chest, fingertips digging into lace, pressing it against soft skin. 

“Up,” Louis growled, pulling the strap of the bra to get Harry’s attention.

Harry stood up, keeping close so that his body rubbed against Louis’ as he did. 

“On the table,” Louis instructed. 

Harry perched himself on the edge of the table, greedily grabbing for Louis once he was settled. Louis was kissing him again--tongue and teeth, demanding everything Harry had to offer him. Louis’ hands fisted in Harry’s shirt, pulling him closer so their bodies rocked against each other. 

“I should really spray this shirt, Mr. Tomlinson. Can’t have it ruined. Got to go to school tomorrow,” Harry murmured around shaky breaths as Louis began to kiss down his neck.

“Let it stain,” Louis growled against his skin. “You can wear one of mine tomorrow.”

“Everyone will know,” Harry moaned.

“Good. They’ll leave you alone. You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Harry agreed as Louis’ mouth returned to his. 

Louis pressed his erection into Harry’s stomach. He loved kissing Harry. It was like a drug. Half the time he forgot that the kisses were supposed to lead somewhere. The feel of lace as his fingers drifted down Harry’s chest brought him back to the moment. He twisted the perky nipples he could spend hours worshiping. Harry cried out as the lace roughed up his skin. He became frantic as the twists and pulls sent jolts of arousal pulsing to his cock. The white shirt got caught around his wrists as he tried to get out of it. Louis stepped back with a proud grin; he was half a moan more from crowing proudly. Harry watched him with dark eyes and shirt still around his wrists.

“Turn,” Louis instructed, his words paired with a twirl of his fingers.

The grin Harry let loose was pure sin, sharp eyes knowing exactly how tonight was going to go and loving every second. Harry did as he was told, shaking the shirt loose before folding his arms and resting his forehead on them as he braced against the table. His back arched down and accentuated what he was offering up. Louis stepped up again, hands ready to grab at that lace covered ass. He pushed the skirt up so that Harry’s ass was fully on display. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

His hands cupped Harry’s ass in the lace, thumbs spreading the cheeks and making the lace rub against the pale skin he loved to mark with nails or a hand print every now and then. Tonight he felt like snapping the seams of these panties against coy skin that never failed to blush under Louis’ attention. Each snap had a breathy gasp passing over Harry’s lips. A private symphony Louis would never share with another soul. The panties were digging into Harry’s skin by now. His cock was pulling them tight. Louis wanted to fuck him.

“Lou,” Harry whimpered.

“Spread your legs a bit, love,” Louis murmured.

Harry complied and gave Louis enough space to step closer. Louis pressed his cock against the lace, letting out his own shaky breath as Harry’s warmth spread over him.

“Want me to take these off, H? Or do you want me to fuck you in your panties?” Louis accentuated his question with a cheeky thumb pressing between Harry’s cheeks. The lace pulled taut as Louis applied pressure.

“On, on,” Harry answered. “Lube is in my shoe.”

Harry couldn’t see him, but Louis raised an eyebrow at that new tidbit of information. He crouched down so he could feel in Harry’s Mary Janes for the lube. He left one hand on Harry’s ass, massaging the pinked skin and rubbing the lace into it. Harry had slipped a little travel packet of lube into his shoe. He was lucky, in all his glorious clumsiness, that it hadn’t opened and gotten all over his socks.

Louis tore the packet open with his teeth once he was standing again. He slicked a couple of fingers up and pulled the panties to the side with his clean hand. Pressing against Harry’s hole, Louis found it gave easily. “Being naughty earlier, H?”

“I like lace,” Harry grumbled, shifting so that more of Louis’ finger fit inside him. “Didn’t feel as good as you do, though.”

Louis gave a quick press to Harry’s prostate causing the other boy to yelp. “No need to flatter love. I’ve seen you fuck yourself with your fingers. You love it.” He added another finger. “That’s what I think of when I get off on my own. Not you fucking me or me fucking you.” Now he was three fingers deep, curling against hot, soft walls. “I think about you sprawled on our bed, humping a pillow with three or four fingers in you while I watch you fall apart. I always cum so hard.”

Harry’s harsh pants echoed in his ears as Louis opened him up. The panties were pulling on his cock. He wanted to touch it so badly, but he would wait. If he touched it too soon, this night would be over before it even started. He turned his head so his cheek rested on his arms rather than his forehead. He could see the slow cooker now. Luckily there was plenty of warm stew waiting for when they could actually eat. He squeezed his eyes shut as Louis’ fingers rubbed over his prostate again. “I’m ready, Mr. Tomlinson. Please, please fuck me.”

Louis grunted, pulling his fingers out slowly. There was a pause, only a few moments where they weren’t touching each other, while fabric rustled and Louis got himself ready. Finally there was a hand in Harry’s hair and a cock in his ass. A throaty moan came from Harry as Louis filled him. “Oh God. Oh _God_.”

“Fuck,” Louis hissed as his hand curled into the skirt. He pulled his hips back and thrust in hard. There was no holding back tonight. They were going to fuck. Hard.

Louis pulled back and thrust back in. Harry keened. The table groaned a bit. It was all music to Louis’ ears. He wanted more, so he thrust again. Harry rocked forward and back with the force of it. He let a bit more weight rest in arms so he could move with Louis’ thrusts. He chased after Louis’ cock when it was pulled away. He wanted to be full. 

Louis folded over Harry, forehead resting just below Harry’s shoulder blades. His hand tightened in Harry’s hair and pulled a bit, getting Harry’s head to come off his arms and the resulting moan to bounce around the kitchen since the table couldn’t catch it in time. Louis relinquished his hold on the skirt, switching to grip Harry’s hip. 

“Yes, Lou,” Harry gasped as fingers dug into his hip. He wanted bruises, reminders. 

Louis brought his other hand to Harry’s hips and got a good grip. He sucked a bruising kiss into Harry’s back before he stood up, pulled back, and thrust at the same time he pulled Harry’s hips back. Their skin smacked together again and again. The slow cooker winked at them. The table protested the rough treatment it was receiving. The panties held on with everything they had; they’d probably never recover but they were enjoying the ride. 

Louis watched as his cock disappeared into Harry over and over. Warm and tight; It was addicting. It made his arousal burn bright in his stomach. The sinful sounds Harry made--moans, gasps, little whimpers--brought him that much closer. 

“Lou, can you please--fuck!” Harry’s request was cut off by a moan as Louis nailed his prostate. His head dropped back on his arms and he let himself go completely pliant, sinking into the sensations. Back and forth, back and forth on Louis’ cock, chest rubbing against the table, arms shaking as they kept his face off the table.

“You close?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded helplessly as Louis scratched along his thigh, bruises sure to bloom where his fingers had held him moments ago. Louis’ free hand went around to Harry’s front. He slipped it between those panties and Harry’s cock. It was a wonderfully snug fit. Harry whined when all Louis did was hold his cock. Louis just grinned.

“Lou, please!”

Louis moved his hand along Harry’s cock in time with his thrusts that were picking up speed as arousal raced through him, the heat building. 

“Oh my God,” Harry sobbed. He found his own hand tugging at his hair as his arousal spiked, orgasm shuddering through him. 

“Shit,” Louis hissed. He brought his hand back to Harry’s hip, giving a few more frantic thrusts into the clench of Harry’s body before cumming himself. 

He collapsed over Harry’s back, both panting over the grumbling table. Louis mustered up some energy to kiss the warm skin he could reach. His knees shook as he pulled slowly out of Harry. The panties weren’t keen on getting back in shape. Louis smoothed them out as best he could unable to stop smug pride blooming in his chest. Then he pulled the skirt right. It’d need framing and a plaque: Responsible for the Best Fuck EVER.

“Couch,” Harry mumbled.

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, helping Harry to straighten. He forgot that Harry had the body of a sixty year old man--achy joints, stiff muscles, and a bad back. Staying bent over the table wasn’t good for him.

They shuffled into the living room, tumbling onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. Louis got Harry out of the bra, granting each nipple a sleepy pinch and kiss before settling on top of his boyfriend for a little nap. “We’ll eat later, okay?” he murmured as his eyes shut.

“Sure, sure,” Harry agreed, patting Louis’ back half-heartedly. It never took him long to fall asleep. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Louis slurred around a yawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos below! I'd love to know what you thought!
> 
> Also, if you'd like to write a story using Bucky's Beans, let me know! I'll tell you what I'd like you to include if you use my coffee shop!


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